


It's an Antique-Like You

by CaptainAmelia22



Series: Tumblr Drabble [5]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe-No Superheros, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmelia22/pseuds/CaptainAmelia22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The car is something Steve never thought he'd see Bucky get excited about.  But he has to admit, as it falls apart all around him, it has it's charm.  Although, he really doesn't think Natasha is going to like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's an Antique-Like You

It’s a piece of shit.  

That’s all Steve can think as the ancient and rust spotted car roars up to the curb in front of his Brooklyn apartment and a grinning Bucky spills from the driver’s seat.  

They both tower over the tiny, box-like diesel and as Bucky struggles to get the door to latch and the engine cools off with a whining sound similar to a whoopie cushion getting the air squeezed out of it slowly, Steve sighs. 

"What is it?"

That’s all he asks, but the disdain and trepidation he feels about this duct-taped relic sprinkling rust on the road outside of his apartment, leaks through his words.  And Bucky knows him better than anyone.

"Are you judging this car, Rogers?" he snaps as the door finally latches with a pathetic groan and the rear window on the passenger side rolls jerkily downwards a few inches.  Bucky’s eyes narrow as Steve’s mouth gapes and he tries to find the words to express how much of a car this isn’t.  "You don’t realize what this is, do you?!" Bucky gasps as he strokes the roof lovingly-almost like he’s soothing the car.  

Steve’s eyes roll and he wonders briefly if he should call Natasha at the bar and see what she has to say about this definite disaster.  ”I don’t know what it is-but I’m pretty sure it’s not a car, Buck,” he says as he takes a careful step around the car and tries to keep his boots out of the pool of life-giving fluids steadily leaking from the engine onto his curb.  ”I don’t think it’s actually  _living._ ”

Bucky snorts and smacks the hood lightly-nearly dislodging the headlight’s yellowed glass as he does.  ”This is only the greatest sedan in history, the Zaporozhets! It was able to brave the snows of Siberia!  It could outrun any Mafia boss pursuit that took place in Stalingrad!  It’s an emblem of a bygone era!  It’s-“

"Soviet?" Steve sputters, his eyes widening and he has to resist tackling Bucky from over the nose of the sagging off-white little car.  "You bought a  _Soviet made_  car?!  Does Natasha know?!”

Please god, let her know and let her be coming now to save us all, he thinks as Bucky folds his arms over the roof of the car and smirks in his direction.  Please god, let this not be real.  

"I’m going to surprise her," Bucky says smugly and Steve’s heart actually freezes in his chest.

He remembers the last time Bucky tried to surprise his on again, off again girlfriend.  The man slept on his couch for nearly a month and sported a black eye for almost as long.  

"Buck," he starts to say slowly and then he’s getting pushed into the passenger seat and the car is roaring to life as Bucky smiles happily into the rearview mirror.  

It’s a piece of shit.

And it smells like it.

Steve’s legs are folded nearly into his chest and Bucky almost as to sit in the rear passenger seat just so he can comfortably reach the clutch and shift.  

Natasha won’t be happy about this.

"But…why?" Steve asks as they make their lurching and uncertain way down Roosevelt St. and in the general direction of the bar Natasha and Sharon own.  

Bucky doesn’t answer at first-simply concentrates on shifting from 2nd to 3rd (or whatever the Soviet equivalent of gears would be-comrade 2 and comrade 3?  Steve smirks a little at the thought) and finally as the gears grind and gnash beneath their feet and the engine turns a little sweeter, he grins.  

"Because she’s Russian and Soviet cars are shitty and she’s always wanted a fixed up one that looks like her father’s."  

He says it softly, lovingly and Steve actually has to stop judging the tiny clown car they’re probably going to die in, and study his best friend.  

"Oh," is all he says.  "That’s-that’s…Huh."  

They fall silent for a moment and then the bar is up ahead and the turn signal is almost working and as the engine whines into an early death and they coast into a nearly perfect parking job in the side-lot of the Thorny Rose, Bucky sighs.

"Besides-I like antiques Rogers," he says as he removes the key from the ignition and prepares to unfold from the front seat.  His eyes are shadowed as he glances at Steve, who is trying to figure out just how he’s going to remove himself from the car without a grappling hook, and Bucky’s smile is wistful as he punches his best friend lightly in the shoulder.  

"You’re still my favorite antique though, Steve-o," he says as the door clicks closed behind him and he makes his way to the bar’s side-entry, his hands tucked firmly in the pockets of his black leather jacket.  

Steve has nothing to say to that and even if he did, Bucky would just punch him lightly and groan about melodrama before rushing to Natasha’s side.  

So he concentrates on removing himself from the tiny car. 

And in all honesty that takes all he has anyway.  

By the time he spills onto the cracked pavement, his legs still stuck under the dashboard and his pants ripped just a bit in an unfortunate place, he realizes that he actually kind of likes Bucky’s new toy.

It has a certain…charm.

And it’s definitely an antique.  

He can’t wait to see what it’ll look like cleaned u-

He’s so focused on nostalgia and charm and removing his shoe from the cracked underside of the glove box he doesn’t see Natasha turn the corner, Bucky’s ear tight between her fingers. 

He does hear her though.

“Vy ublyudok!” she gasps as she catches sight of the little car and Steve finally manages to lever himself upright.  She’s obviously furious-her red hair almost trembles with her anger and as Sharon laughs from the doorway and Bucky tries to wriggle free of her fingers, she shakes him.  ”Get rid of it James!” she shouts as a crowd begins to gather and he finally gets free.  

Bucky’s mouth pops open and he sputters, “But Natalia! It’s an antique!  Like Steve!”

Steve has to admit, as the sound of her slapping his best friend fades and the crowd begins to cheer, sometimes nostalgia is a little overrated. 

"Sorry Buck," he murmurs as he supports his best friend and goes in search of a taxi.  "But some antiques don’t have as much value to other people."  

Bucky only groans and curses softly in Russian about the ridiculousness of women.  Then as a taxi arrives, spraying gravel and city dust over their feet, he mutters, “Guess I’ll just stick with you Steve-o.”  

Steve doesn’t have anything to say about that so he just grins smugly and settles back in a comfortable taxi seat that actually lets him stretch his legs out.  


End file.
